A Morning at Bag End
by brittney
Summary: Just a little sketch about what Sam/Rosie's homelife might have been like.


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Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings or any of it's characters and I cannot claim to hope to do justice to the genious of Tolkien with any of my writing- yet I do it respectfully as an ardent admirer of Middle Earth with it's evils and innocence alike. Thus my story is humbly submitted. 

A MORNING AT BAG END  
  


The morning sun streamed though Elanor's window like a divine blessing and she smiled as she rubbed the sleepiness from her tired eyes.  
  
"What time is it?" She asked herself.  
  
"Time for a little hobbit-lass to wake up." He said suddenly, popping up from the side of her bed, making her jump.  
  
"Daddy!" She squealed with laughter. "Don't do that!"  
  
"Do what?" Sam asked innocently. "This?" And he proceeded to sling her backwards over his shoulder for a ride.  
  
"Sam-dad*****, you're being silly."  
  
After entering the pantry, Sam gently set his bundle down and found the pastries, but a sudden voice from the kitchen startled him.  
  
"Breakfast is on the table," his cheery wife was calling. Then, "Sam, are you in the pantry?"  
  
"Um… yes!" He called, swallowing nervously.  
  
"You're not into those raspberry tarts again, are you?"  
  
"No, just fetching some bread for you!" He winked at Elanor, who giggled amidst a mouthful of her own.  
  
"Well, I've already taken care of that, but you could fetch little Rosie from her crib."  
  
"Right away, dear!"  
  
Elanor mimicked her father's mischievous smile and followed him to her baby sister's room. On their way, they ran into little Frodo, or rather, he ran into them.  
  
"Whoa!" Sam said, after taking a crash hit from the speeding four-year old. "Where are you off to in such an all-fired hurry?"  
  
"Momma said breakfast," the young boy replied.  
  
Sam smiled at his son. Frodo-lad's appetite was unusually large, even for a hobbit. He ruffled his hair, already messy from sleep. "Well, off you go, then! And help mom with the dishes if you can."  
  
Sam opened little Rosie's door quietly and tiptoed inside. Daylight splashed the room, yet Rosie lay quiet on her mattress.  
  
"Good morning, sunshine," Sam whispered in her ear and she began to stir and whimper. Carefully, he picked her up and held her to his chest.  
  
"Hi, Rosie!" Elanor cooed at the little face peeking over her father's shoulder, yawning and squinting in the light. Like her sister, Rosie was, to Sam's delight, the spitting image of her mother. And upon entering the kitchen, he couldn't help but smile.  
  
"What?" Asked Rosie suspiciously, holding her stomach. She was soon expecting a fourth child, but Sam thought she was as beautiful as ever.  
  
"Oh, nothing," he said nonchalantly, putting his free arm around his wife. "It's just good to know I'm the luckiest hobbit alive."  
  
"Oh." She replied with a grin.  
  
"Just look around. Right here in Bag End, I have the three prettiest hobbit-lasses in all the Shire." He smiled at both his Rosies and winked at Elanor. "Not to mention a fine, young hobbit lad," he said, and looked at Frodo. "Do you still want to help me start the spring planting this afternoon, Frodo?"  
  
The young hobbit grinned and nodded furiously, almost making him lose his mouthful of eggs. "Is Grand-dad coming?"  
  
"He's planning on it, and Mr. Pippin might stop by."  
  
Frodo swallowed and looked up in awe. "Master Peregrin wants to help plant?"  
  
"Plant? No," said Sam with a laugh. "That's a bit above and below him, you might say. He's just coming for a visit. No. Mr. Pippin isn't the gardening type, if you take my meaning, though not to say a bad thing about him. Master Peregrin's as fine a gentlehobbit as you could hope to meet, and that's a fact."  
  
After breakfast, Sam got ready to leave.  
  
"Where are you off to this morning, Samwise?" Rose asked.  
  
"Will Whitfoot asked me to pay him a call," Sam answered. "Said he's got some rather important business to talk about."  
  
"Oh, Sam," Rosie's eyes shone. "Is this what I think it's about?"  
  
"I don't know, Rose," he said with a grin. "We'll just have to see." He was about to kiss her good-bye when she suddenly cringed and sat down.  
  
"Rose, are you okay?!" He asked earnestly, kneeling by her side.  
  
"I'm fine, Sam. You don't need to worry about me. It's just the baby kicking again."  
  
"Is there anything I can do?" His face was sincere and encouraging.  
  
"No, I'm fine, Sam, just fine. You go on now," she said, shooing her husband toward the door. Then, "Wait."  
  
"Yes?" Sam looked worried.  
  
"I guess there is one thing you could do for me."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
She got up, fetched the broom, and handed it to him.  
  
"What's this for?" Sam was curious.  
  
"For cleaning up the trail of crumbs you left in the pantry this morning," she said with a smile.  
  
Sam looked blank for a minute, then feigned a look of innocence. "What trail?"  
  
"Oh, you know what I'm talking about, you scoundrel," she laughed. "Next time you might try being a little more sneaky about it."  
  
Sam headed for the pantry and then heard Rosie laugh, "If there is a next time!" Confused, he entered the room and looked around. The pastries were gone, raspberry tarts and all.

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*In regard to a question of Elanor's casual referral of her father as "Sam-dad" I just wanted to note that it was how she referred to him in Tolkien's unpublished Epilogue about Sam with his family. It was there that I found the endearing term.


End file.
